


Who's My Daddy?

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-15
Updated: 2008-03-15
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: It's been a typical night at Babylon, and both Justin and Brian have hoisted a few. Questions ensue.





	Who's My Daddy?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Rated R for naughty language.  


* * *

Brian narrowed his eyes in an attempt to bring the patrons at the bar into focus. He was searching for one particular patron whom he wanted to take into the backroom and fuck or take home and fuck or lure into a bathroom stall and fuck or…. Brian could not summon up any more locations in his current condition, but he was clear on one fact: he wanted to fuck Justin Taylor. Now. Or very soon, anyway.

He let his eyes sweep the bar area a second time, and this time he caught sight of the man he was searching for, almost hidden behind two larger customers. He wove his way across the dance floor until he was nearly at Justin’s side. The sight of tears, filling Justin’s eyes and threatening to slide down his face stopped Brian in his tracks. “What the fuck?”

Justin turned his head slowly and looked at Brian. “I’m so sad,” he said. His eyes were glazed over with more than tears. Justin had obviously had more than a few…Brian peered at his glass…vodka martinis? to drink..

“I can see that,” Brian yelled over the thumpa, thumpa, thumpa. “What’s the matter?”

“My father is a homopo…homopho…homophrob…”

“Your father hates gays.”

“Right. My father hates gays. And I’m gay.” A fat tear rolled down Justin’s cheek. “See that kid out there?” Justin cocked his head, motioning toward a boy so nelly he could make Emmett blush.

Brian nodded.

“I saw him at the grocery store today…with his dad…and they were laughing. It’s just not fair.”

“Maybe his dad doesn’t know he’s gay,” Brian said. The absurdity of the remark wasn’t lost on either of them.

Justin rolled his eyes and protested, “He was wearing sparkly eye shadow, Brian.”

“Well, maybe his dad thinks he’s a girl.” Brian suppressed a giggle with some difficulty. He had had more than a couple of Jim Beams himself but even so, the look Justin shot him made one thing perfectly clear. This conversation wasn’t going in a direction that would result in Justin bending over anything anytime soon. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s just go home.”

“Don’t want to go home. Want another drink. Want so many drinks I forget all about my father.”

“I have a better idea, how ‘bout I fuck you? There’s no way you can think about your father with my dick up your ass.”

“Yes, I can. Cause I’ll think about your dick, and that reminds me that my dad’s a dick, and I’ll jus’ keep on remembering and remembering and remembering and….”

Brian cut him off, “Maybe Craig isn’t really your father….”

Justin blinked. “I think he is. I don’t think my mother ever fucked around on him.” His eyes filled up again. “I don’ wanna think my mother….”

“No, no,” Brian said hastily. “I didn’t mean that. I meant you divorced him. Craig’s not your fucking father anymore ‘cause you divorced him.”

“I divorced him? I don’ remember that. Why don’ I remember that?”

“Because you’re pretty fucking drunk, that’s why.” Justin seemed a little calmer now…puzzled but calmer. “I wanna go home, Justin, but I need some coffee first. Let’s go to the diner.”

Justin followed him through the club, outside, down the street, and into the Liberty Diner. His crying jag seemed to be over although he was still sniffling and occasionally wiping his nose on his sleeve.

They took a booth and Brian indicated to the waiter – not Debbie, thank God – that they wanted two coffees. He was optimistic that the short walk had been distraction enough to make Justin lose track of the conversation, but no such luck. Justin still looked puzzled, his forehead wrinkled in perplexity. “If I divorced my father, then I don’ have a father anymore.” His eyes looked dangerously damp again.

“Need to get you a new father,” Brian said quickly, glancing around the diner hoping to spot a likely suspect, “You know, adopt one.”

Justin brightened a little. “Get a new father. Adopt one that isn’t a homopo…homopho…homophro….”

“Yeah, that doesn’t hate gays.”

“Right.” Justin looked puzzled again. “But who?”

Brian thought about it for a moment. Fortunately his train of thought…or, rather, lack of a train of thought…was interrupted by the arrival of two coffees. “Drink your coffee,” he said.

Justin put rather a lot of sugar in coffee…but who was Brian to criticize anyone for using a lot of sugar?…and stirred slowly, the spoon clanking against the cup. Finally, he looked up, smiling brightly, and said, “I know. You can adopt me.”

Brian looked at him in dismay. Somehow that solution didn’t seem right. Brian wasn’t sure why, but he just knew it was wrong. It was his turn to stir and think. A minute passed, and he said, “I can’t adopt you. I fuck you. Can’t adopt someone you fuck.”

“Oh. Then who?” Justin asked.

Brian reviewed their friends rapidly. “Ben. You should adopt Ben.”

Justin looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “Ben’s no good. Ben fucks Michael. Can’t have a father who fucks Michael.”

Brian thought about that. Justin’s reasoning seemed wrong, but he couldn’t figure out why. “O.K, Emmett. You can adopt Emmett.”

This time Justin’s objection was almost instantaneous. “Not Emmett. Emmett fucks everybody. Can’t adopt Emmett.” Brian nodded in agreement. That made sense. Justin went on, “Not adopting Ted either. Don’t want Ted for a father.”

Brian said, “I never suggested Ted. I never would suggest Ted. Don’t adopt Ted.”

“How about Mel? Mel already is a father. She has ‘sperience.”

“So does Ben. Experience isn’t a good enough reason.” Now it was Brian’s turn to look puzzled. “I don’t think you can adopt a lesbian anyway.” He looked warily at Justin, checking for signs of tears. “I got it.” He slapped his hand on the table, and Justin jumped. “Horvath. Horvath is perfect for your father.”

Justin looked dubious. “Horvath fucks Debbie.”

“That’s why he’s perfect. Your father fucked your mother, right?” Justin looked revolted. “He had to, to have you,” Brian continued. “And Debbie’s like your mom. Hell, Debbie’s like everyone’s mom. So, since Horvath fucks Debbie, he could be your father. All you have to do is adopt him.”

Justin pondered this for a few seconds and then scooted across the seat and stood up. “Good. Let’s go.”

Brian dropped a couple of dollars on the table and started to follow him. Before they reached the door, he grabbed the back of Justin’s coat and stopped him. “Where’re we going?”

“Going to see Horvath and adopt him.”

“It’s 2:30 a.m., Justin. You think this is a good idea?”

“Great!” Justin exclaimed. “A real dad won’t care when his son wakes him up for something this important. Lez go.”

“Good point,” Brian said as they left the diner together.

Fifteen minutes later, thanks to whatever God looks after well-intentioned but drunken drivers, they were standing on Debbie’s porch, with Justin’s finger on the doorbell. It had been pealing for several minutes before Brian heard Horvath’s bellow, “I’m coming, I’m coming, dammit.”

Brian reached over and pulled Justin’s hand back. Justin leaned back against him and yawned. “Don’t pass out on me now,” Brian pleaded.

Carl pulled aside the curtains, recognized them and opened the door. “What’s wrong?” he said. “Is somebody in trouble?” Debbie was right behind him, looking over his shoulder.

Justin said, “I’m in trouble…” but Brian over-rode him. “Nothing’s wrong, but Justin has to ask Carl a question.”

Justin said, “I am so in trouble. I don’t have a father, and….”

Brian said, “What he means to say….”

Debbie appraised them with the eye of experience. “They’re both fucking drunk, that’s what. Did you drive here, Brian?”

Brian nodded in what he hoped was a sober manner. “Justin is too drunk to drive.”

“Well, that’s for damn sure. I’m calling them a cab.”

Horvath said, “Why don’t you boys….”

Debbie interrupted him. “No. No fucking way do those two come in this house. We aren’t partying with them at 3:00 a.m. in the fucking morning. You may have forgotten that we both have to get up at 5:30 but I haven’t. They can wait on the fucking porch until the cab comes,” and she turned and went back toward the kitchen.

Justin had his eyes shut now. Horvath said, “If that’s all….”

Justin’s eyes popped open. “I want to adopt you.”

“Pardon me?”

“I need a father, so Brian told me to adopt you ‘cause you fuck Debbie.”

Horvath looked understandably startled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand….”

Brian said, “He doesn’t want Craig for a father anymore….”

“Cause he’s a homopo…homphro…homophobic bigot….”

Brian looked at him admiringly. “Fuck, Justin, you must be sobering up.”

Horvath said, “I still don’t understand….”

Debbie was back. “Tell them it’s okay with you.”

“What’s okay with me?”

“Who the fuck cares? They won’t remember in the morning anyway.”

Horvath said, “I’ll be your father, Justin, if that’s what you want. And that must be your taxi turning the corner.”

The cab pulled to a stop. Brian started to say good night, but the door had already closed, and he could hear laughter from inside. He shrugged, then helped Justin maneuver the steps down to the sidewalk.

Once in the taxi, Justin leaned on Brian. “Still rather have you for a father than Carl.”

“But then we couldn’t fuck.”

“I wouldn’t like that. Like to fuck. Too tired to fuck now, though. Wait until we wake up?”

“Damn good idea,” Brian said and he yawned.

The cabbie, his ears burning, stepped on the gas and drove faster through the deserted streets.


End file.
